


Crooked Teeth

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Gen, Horror Elements, M/M, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, can be read as joshler or platonic, tw for drug abuse, tyler is a werewolf, written as platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-01-26 11:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Besides the werewolf thing, Tyler likes to think he has his life in order.Until he ends up partnered with some pink-haired, anxiety-ridden drummer for a project.
Relationships: Josh Dun & Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	1. Monday-Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> This work marks my second posted to Ao3, and about my fourth written! It was partially inspired by both the song St. Bernard by Lincoln, and An American Werewolf in London. I needed to get the concept out of my head ASAP. Enjoy my ramblings!

It’s dark, it’s cold, and he’s running. 

Everything is contorted, colored strangely, like the entirety of Columbus’ back allies have been filmed under a bad filter. The neon lights of unfortunate businesses shift in the fog, hazy. 

But Tyler isn’t paying attention to his surroundings. His stomach is screaming at him, begging him to find something to eat. He’s never felt this hungry in his life. Following his nose, his senses lead him in circles running as fast as he can to find food before he starves, and he _is_ starving. He swears there’s saliva drooling over his chin. The alleys blend together into a blur of light and hunger and pain. It’s only when he trips over an unseen obstacle and flails to the ground that he realizes he’s been running on all fours. 

He struggles to his feet (claws clicking on asphalt), and shakes his matted fur (he feels like he’s covered in bugs- crawling, pins and needles), then notices that it’s all dark now. No neon, no smog, not even moonlight. It would be a deafening silence if he couldn’t hear his stomach, his head pounding the tempo of a frantic drummer... 

There’s a garage door in front of him. Even in the darkness he can make out the segments, the arching metal. He presses his nose between the cracks, and sniffs manically. Saliva drips, dripping onto the concrete below. He can smell food, there’s food on the other side... He hums a savage growl before slamming himself into the lower section, slowly rending himself a way to salvation, snarling, raving, hungry, hungry, HUNGRY-

He wakes up. 

-|- 

Tyler can’t remember the night he was bitten. 

He can remember getting knocked out by a thug in an alley. He can remember turning his pockets inside out when he woke up, searching for any money left to pay for his medication. He can even remember going home to his apartment, digging into the emergency fund in his closet, and seeing blood smeared on the clothing he'd been digging through. He looked down to see red covering the back of his arm. The bite mark, he remembered, looked like a human bite mark.

His funds couldn’t cover a visit to the doctor, and he needed to refill his prescription _yesterday_, so Neosporin and Band-Aids it was. It wasn’t his fault he sort of forgot about the bite when it stopped itching. 

When Tyler thinks back on it much later, he blames missing his medication for thinking a human could wrap their jaws around his forearm. 

-|- 

His alarm beeps from the second-hand nightstand and Tyler inhales fast. Still shaken, he lets its annoying beeping get louder and louder before finally leaning over to flop his hand onto the snooze button. 

Sitting up slowly, he drags his palms down his face. Tyler sighs, and drops his hands into his lap, then he looks straight up at where the calendar has been pinned to the drywall, above the closed laptop next to his bed, always ready to greet him when he wakes up. His class schedule, still unmemorized, has been clumsily written into its select boxes. The night of the full moon has been subtly indicated with scribbled circling and large red arrows. It’s two weeks away. 

The sleeping pills usually keep dreams at bay, but it isn’t too strange for the nightmares to bleed through the closer he gets to The Night, with the sleep he gets before It ending with horrific bouts of sleep paralysis. He’d tell his doctor about it, if he wouldn’t have to explain the whole moon monster thing. He’d tell his therapist about them, if he could afford one, or, at least, convince himself he needed a therapist.

He left his childhood home to spread his wings- to grow up as a proper starving college student struggling with crippling debt away from the eyes, and bank account, of his parents. So far, he’d have to say it’s gone pretty darn well. A minimum wage, but stable, job; a decent apartment (_in Columbus?_) for a decent price (_In Columbus?!_). He had to admit he’d gotten lucky. 

He stretched out his arms, feeling his back pop before wrestling his way out from under the comforter. He shoved his laptop and various supplies into his bag, then checked his cheap phone for any messages or calls. The group chat had a couple of memes and uninteresting drama he poked through for a bit, until he heard his alarm clock go off again and rushed to turn it off properly. He showered, took his pills, made a quick breakfast out of a leftover bagel from two nights ago and a Red Bull, double checked that he took his pills, then made his way outside in the frosty March air to make it to class. 

Besides the werewolf thing, he likes to think he has his life in order. 

Tyler _knew_ people thought he was an idiot for signing up for morning classes. He actively made the choice in an attempt to escape human interaction, figuring that most students would prefer the afternoon sessions. He was right, in a way. People definitely preferred afternoon classes. That didn’t stop his nine AM Life on Planet Earth class from being crowded with other disgruntled students required to take the class for their majors.

He stepped into the classroom, taking his preferred seat in the back where no one could see his face and he couldn’t see theirs. Opening his laptop, he started searching through programs for the recording feature, while Mr. Midday greeted the class and began explaining the topic. Tyler started up the recorder and zoned out as the professor gave introductions and explanations on the reproductive behavior of various birds. 

His mom’s birthday was coming up, he needed to find something nice for her, the math homework is due next week... 

Near the end of class, Tyler is shot out of his reverie by one of his buzzwords. 

“…this will be a group project. Well, not necessarily a group project but you will be in groups of two. Pick your partner, I guess,” he glares warningly at the room, ready to overturn his decision if necessary. “Each of you will have to find a species of bird and explain its resemblance to a non-avian reptile. I expect at least six pages between you or a good presentation,” he checks his phone. “Due two weeks from today! I'll send out a rubric and more info over e-mail.” 

He looks at his phone, then the analog clock on the wall, then his phone again. 

“Class dismissed! Have a wonderful day, guys.” 

As students pack up, the talk around the class shifts to who'll be partners with who, friends fighting the crowd towards each other to start discussing plans. 

Meanwhile, Tyler is starting to freak out. He can’t. He can’t work with someone or present anything, not when The Night is coming up. In hindsight he should have expected this. Some professor assigning work on the day he can’t concentrate on anything, the night he can’t control himself. He takes a deep breath in, deep breath out. It’s alright. He has the Wolfsbane. He can ask Mr. Midday if he can work alone. Disaster averted. As he’s making his way to the professor's desk, he hears someone struggle to clear their throat behind him. 

He turns around and the first thing he notices is the pink hair, fluffed up like cotton candy. The second thing he notices is that the boy the hair belongs to is looking at him nervously, his hands wringing the strap of his messenger bag and his eyes only barely meeting Tyler’s.

“Um, I- uh, I saw that you didn’t go find a partner like, right after class ended, and well, I-I was wondering if you, uh, had someone to work with? I mean if you do that’s fine! I was just wondering ‘cause I don’t really know anyone in here and I saw you and figured ‘hey! That seems like a cool guy,’ and-” 

“Um,” Tyler hummed, carefully reviewing his options in his head. He needed to say no. _Say no_. Ask Mr. Midday if he can work alone and wish this guy the best. It’s a big class, he’ll find someone to work with. 

But the longer Tyler stays silent, the worse the puppy dog eyes get on the guy. They’re a really nice brown, Tyler notes, and he can almost see them glossing up and he’s worrying his lower lip and his face is red and... And Tyler never stood a chance, did he? He shoves down the screaming rejections in the back of his head and nods a couple times, avoiding eye contact. 

“Yeah, sure. It’s cool, man.” 

Cotton candy-hair seems to have let out most of his tension in one sigh, shifting over in the aisle to let another student pass by before looking just under Tyler’s eyes. 

“My-uh, my name’s Josh Dun,” he said. He held out his hand as if to shake Tyler’s, but then quickly brought it back to his side, before reconsidering and holding out his hand again. Tyler could see that it was shaking slightly, but he went ahead and shook it anyway. 

“Tyler Joseph. D’you want my number?” 

Josh looked up as if Tyler just told him the secrets of the universe, and nodded his head yes. 

“Yeah, yeah, that would be helpful, thanks.” 

As soon as they finished exchanging numbers, Josh had shot out the door and Tyler was still mulling over his mistake. He can’t let anyone be near him on The Night. He can’t. 

_So just don’t work on the project that night,_ a voice in his head snarked. _You can’t hurt him if he isn’t near you._

Can’t argue with that logic. 

The bike ride back to the apartment in light, freezing rain was only slightly better than being in class discussing the evolutionary paths of pigeons, but at least the promise of a warm house, some food, and maybe some time to work on that song with the promising hook kept him going. He had to get to his job later at the record shop over on 5th Avenue, but he wasn’t worried about that now. 

He stepped into his apartment and simultaneously hoped that Josh found a different partner and that Josh was a better partner than Tyler was expecting. 

-|- 

Of course, Tyler did not immediately think "werewolf."

He went to a free walk-in clinic when he had the chance, told them he had been knocked out by a robber and then been bitten while he drifted. The doctor had asked him if he reported the attack, which Tyler had completely forgotten to do. Then she inspected his bitten arm, only to find… nothing. It couldn’t possibly have been enough time for the wound to heal up. No trace, not even a scratch. The doctor explained that a combination of a concussion and being off his meds meant he might’ve just hallucinated the bite. Tyler thought about it and yeah, the bite had been more itchy than painful, even though it probably should have hurt a lot. Maybe it _was_ his imagination. He'd stopped trying to question the doctors a long time ago. 

During the end of a long hard week trying to make up for the lost money, the nightmares started. Running on all fours, saliva dripping from his lips, teeth too big for his mouth. Endless alleyways and forests. They got worse and worse over the weekend, escalating to chasing down faceless, nameless people and animals. In the dreams he was always, always hungry. Then one night he woke up unable to move with a shadow staring at him from just outside his window, its claws scraping the pane, just waiting to be let in as Tyler tried to scream. He was still shivering when he properly woke up... That’s when he started to wonder if something was wrong with him. 

-|- 

Tyler pushed open the library door with his shoulder, holding a bagel in one hand and the cheapest coffee he could find in another. Josh had texted him on Tuesday night, saying that they should start working on the project in person and “can we meet in the library?” And, “did you get the prof's e-mail? he changed the due date! the project’s due on thursday instead on monday.” He had, and he couldn’t be happier. Tyler speed walked past the book aisles, right into the quietest section of the library. Large windows lined the wall, letting in plenty of light and safety. His gut told him that’s where he’d find Josh, and as he saw the cotton candy hair in the sun, he smiled. 

He set his backpack and breakfast down harder than he should have, eliciting a jolt from Josh. Josh looked up at him with wide eyes, before recognizing him and taking out his earbuds. 

“Hey, uh, Tyler, right? Thanks so much for partnering with me, I know it... probably isn’t what you wanted to do.” 

Tyler sat down in the chair across from him, and started digging into the carry-out bag for his bagel. He scowled; they always forget the cream cheese. 

“Yeah, it's cool man. I think we can finish this fast if we're both working at the same time, anyway.” 

“…So, what bird are we planning on doing?” 

Josh was a different person than the nervous wreck Tyler'd met in class. While he still had that anxious aura, a nervous stutter, and a penchant for avoiding Tyler’s eyes, the quiet of the library seemed to inspire him to talk more confidently. Much less “uhs” and “ums.”

“D’you mind me asking what you're majoring in?” Josh asked. 

“Music definitely.”

“Really? Me too!”

“What instruments?” 

“Trumpet, but, the.. the drums are my first love.” He smiled, turning away from his computer screen. “You?”

Tyler blew air between his lips, turning his eyes upwards like he was deep in thought.

“Piano, ukulele... vocals…” Josh’s eyebrows went up at that. 

“You can sing?” 

“Uh, yeah Josh. Everyone can sing.” 

“No, I mean, you can sing _well?_” 

“Josh, are you saying not everyone has the voice of an angel?” Tyler put extra effort into grinning, hoping his sarcasm wouldn’t come off as mean. He was pleasantly surprised when Josh snickered, his teeth showing as he smiled back. How could someone have teeth so perfectly straight and white? 

“No way, not when Nickelback exists!” 

They managed to get more work done than Tyler thought they would. Josh proved to be pleasant and easy to work with, another thing Tyler didn’t expect. The thing he expected the least was the way Josh kept trying to subtly look at Tyler's bagel, and with a sigh, Tyler broke off the eaten parts and offered the half to Josh. 

“Oh! No thanks, I actually ate before-” Tyler raised his eyebrows, staring between Josh and the bagel. Josh cringed, and after a moment’s hesitation, took the proffered food with a small thanks. Tyler smiled at him, and felt relieved when Josh took a bite and smiled back. 

While they’d made good progress, two hours later they still weren’t halfway done. It was probably because they kept getting off-topic discussing their favorite bands, the best-by-default pop songs, an annoying commercial that Josh keeps hearing on the radio that’s been running for months. Conversation with Josh was easier and easier the more comfortable he got. 

After three hours, Tyler had to get back home to get ready for work, and Josh had drumming practice to get to. Josh looked up at him from packing up his laptop. 

“So, where d’you wanna meet next?” 

“How about Starbucks? The one on the corner? We could get some food while we work.” Tyler was surprised when Josh shook his head fast. 

“Uh, no, no- I mean, I’d love to, but, I don’t really have money to spare right now, and-” 

“I’ll buy.” 

Josh looked at him again, eyes wide and mouth open slightly. He shifted his weight, looking away for a second before looking back. Staring at Tyler’s intent face, he realized he couldn’t win this fight and nodded slightly. 

“O-okay. You win. Starbucks on the corner- uh, can you tell me which corner?” Tyler smiled broadly and gave him the street names. 

“Do you have any classes on Friday?” Tyler questioned. 

“In the morning, yeah.” 

“Two morning classes in one week? You torture yourself, man.” 

“I, uh, I work most afternoons. Gotta pay off those loans, right?” Josh’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Fair. But, think we can meet at the ‘Bucks then?” 

“’The ‘Bucks?’” 

“Yeah, the ‘Bucks, ‘cause I’m too cool for full brand names.” Josh paused for a moment, then started giggling again, Tyler joining him. 

“Yeah, I can meet you at the- at the ‘Bucks Friday night. Around, like, 8-ish?” 

It was a bit later than Tyler was expecting, but that was okay. He pulled out his phone to put it in his calendar there, making a mental note to transfer it to his physical one when he got home. 

“That works.” 

As they made their way towards the exit in a comfortable silence, Tyler could feel Josh stealing glances at him from the side. When Tyler looked back at him, Josh whipped his face forward. Tyler opened the door for him as they left, and said goodbye as Josh made his way over to his parked van. Josh waved back happily before getting in, and Tyler began the trek back home. 

It was weird being alone after three straight hours spent with another person, even if they were a stranger. Or, acquaintance, now? He felt like he’d known Josh forever. A sigh of relief escaped him as he faced his calendar, crossing off the days passed, and seeing that the full moon was well enough away. If Josh and him kept hard at work, they’d be done and he’d never have to see Josh again until the presentation. 

Except in class. 

And probably around the campus. And Josh might notice if Tyler were avoiding him and wonder what he did wrong- Okay. He’s gonna have to see Josh again after this. 

Tyler shudders. The last time people were around him constantly, he’d been terrified that they’d find out. If they didn’t discover his secret by way of Tyler ripping their throat open in the night, they’d think he was crazy, and they’d leave him or make him go to the doctor and the doctor would prescribe him more pills. No thanks. 

He ate some ramen for dinner, scrolled through the group chat, did homework, played some games, took his pills, brushed his teeth, double-checked he took his pills, popped a Sleep Aid, and finally went to bed way later than he should have.

In his dreams, he runs on all fours. 

-|- 

There’s something crawling under his skin, he just knows it. He paces back and forth, back and forth as it turns dusk and the full moon stalks the horizon. He doesn’t know what’s happening, maybe a side effect of the anti-depressants? 

He’s shaking and clutching himself, blunt fingernails digging into his naked skin. It’s around 65 degrees but it’s way too hot, the sweat running down his back only worsening the itching sensation and his pacing doing nothing to stop the sweat. After a few hours of endless heat, he’d shucked his clothes off and turned the fans on max. Painful hot and cold flashes keep him from concentrating, from connecting the dots. 

Three cans of Red Bull had come and gone, only because they were chilled and the water from the tap just wouldn’t get cold enough. 

At some point he laid down on the kitchen floor, suffering the crawling pins and needles, restless ache, to press his face and chest against the laminate. The heat only seemed to get worse. From there he realized he couldn’t muster the will to get back up on his feet.

The moon finally rose past the horizon. Without warning, his bones and muscles exploded into aching, screaming pain. His whole body shuddered and he needed help, he needed the pain to go away. He opened his mouth to call out, someone had to be able to hear him, but no sound came. He wanted to throw his limbs around, force them to writhe away the pain but his nerves weren’t responding. 

His fingers suddenly felt like someone was yanking on them, trying to pull them off, and a second later his feet did as well. They didn’t move when they were commanded to. He painfully shifted his head to look toward his hands, and saw that his fingers had curled in a way he didn’t think possible, his whole palm unnaturally extended forward at least an inch, with his thumb a lot smaller than he remembered. His fingernails were numb and dark brownish-black. They were sinking into his fingers. 

He again tried to cry out but now his vocal cords only responded with a pained, deep groan completely unlike his voice. Bones shifted and creaked under his skin and he looked away, forcing himself to focus on the keyboard in the corner of the living room instead of the shattering pain, mouth wide open, gasping. His teeth starting grating against themselves and he shut his eyes as tightly as possible, just begging God for it to be over. 

His spine stretched straight and everything felt wrong, wrong- his skin itched and agony surrounded him, his throat still letting out only bass moans instead of cries for help. His teeth clicked and scraped and then his face erupted, his cartilage and skin and bone and eyes and everything becoming deadly numb and burning-alive painful at the same time.

His lower teeth cut into his upper lips and everything faded out, a Gaussian blur on his consciousness and conscience... 

He woke up naked in a forest about three miles away from the apartment. His whole lower face, neck, and upper chest were drenched in blood, and a few flies buzzed around his mouth, which he quickly shooed away. He couldn’t remember anything of the previous night besides laying on the kitchen floor to stay cool. 

Tyler took in his shaking limbs, the overwhelming taste of copper, the stringy pieces of _something_ caught between his teeth, the red paint dumped all over his torso, and screamed. 

That was the first time he transformed. It was also, thankfully, the worst.


	2. Friday and Saturday

Tyler checks the corner of the laptop screen. It’s almost nine. The employees in the Starbucks have started giving him pitying looks as they see him check the time and sigh, and although Tyler knows this wasn’t anything romantic, he still feels like he’s been stood up on a date. Josh still hasn’t responded to the text he sent at 8:16. 

At 8:20 Tyler started getting some work done on the project, stuffing his brain with thoughts of swallows and crocodiles, instead of questions that would inevitably lead to frustration about _where Josh is right now_. 

It’s 8:31 when his phone dings. He immediately pulls away from the slide he’s working on, mashing buttons more aggressively than necessary to unlock his phone. It's just a text from the group chat, Jenna sharing a video about… Donkey Kong? He went to click the link, then he saw pink hair in his periphery. 

Josh half walked, half jogged into the Starbucks, cotton candy hair unbrushed and breathing through his mouth trying to catch his breath. He scanned the seating as fast as he could, before his eyes landed on Tyler, and he speed walked over. 

“You’re a bit late y'know, the ‘Bucks closes in like, 30 minutes.” Tyler stated as Josh let his bag fall to the floor and fished out his laptop. 

“...I forgot to change my clocks for daylight savings,” Josh said as seriously as possible, slightly belittled by his voice cracking. They both stared at each other for a few seconds, then they both started smiling like idiots. Anything Tyler was going to say accusing Josh vanished when Josh smiled like that, his eyes scrunched up enough that the bags under them were invisible. Tyler ran his hand down his face, looking up as Josh sat down and started talking. 

“In all seriousness, my van sort of, well it did, break down. My phone died since I couldn’t use that charging thing- the charger hooked up to the battery. I-I'm really sorry I was late, it's just that I had to walk here and-” 

“Dude, it's cool.” 

Josh looked up at him with the bewildered expression Tyler was getting used to seeing every time Josh was told he'd done nothing wrong. 

“Are you… sure? I mean, so far I've been a really bad partner with this project, I've just been getting in your way.” 

“Whattya want to eat?” 

“Tyler-“ 

“Josh. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t make your car break down. You've been amazing help with this project, I couldn’t have gotten as far in as we did alone.” 

“You always could've done it with someone else.” Josh isn’t looking at him. 

“Who else am I s'posed to talk to about bad pop songs?” 

Josh looked up to that, staring at Tyler with some unreadable expression as Tyler smirked at him. 

“C'mon Josh, what d’you want to eat?” 

Josh got out his wallet- 

“Josh, man, I literally said yesterday that I was paying.” 

The pink-haired man sighed dramatically, shoving his wallet back into his pocket as he craned his neck to eye the menu. 

“Is it the right time of day for coffee?” 

“Oh, absolutely not. What kind d'you want?” 

“Uh... Just a short regular, please. I don’t want to, y’know, spend too much of your money. Thanks so much, dude.” 

“You really aren’t, but if that’s what you want.” 

Tyler slid out of his chair and ordered for the both of them, returning to the table to start packing up his things. Josh looked up, confused. 

“...Why’re you packing up?” 

“Josh, the place closes in 30 minutes.” 

“Wait, really? I thought Starbucks were open 24 hours or something.” The way Tyler looked at the drummer said everything. 

“...Have you ever been to Starbucks?” 

“Yeah, in the- in the mornings sometimes! I thought it was like Panera bread.” 

“Panera isn’t open 24 hours either!” At this point the argument was just becoming humorous.

“Oh,” Josh sighed, starting to pack up his own things. 

Before Tyler could even realize what he was saying, he replied, “Want to come to my place to work on it? If you want to, of course. We can get our drinks on the way out.” 

“That really depends, are you going to murder me?” 

“I’ll try not to, but I make no promises.” 

Josh didn’t mention the fact that they’d only really met four days ago, and Tyler didn’t want to bring it up. He was wracking his brain for why the hell he just told Josh to come to his house. The vials of Wolfsbane were in plain sight, and his calendar with the full moon circled like some cliché was still up on his wall. He was way too trusting of Josh, but he couldn’t be blamed. Josh understood his humor, Josh doesn’t give him strange looks when he spoke without thinking, not to mention that Tyler had isolated himself for almost three years now. 

Okay, okay, if they just stay in the living area and not go into the bedroom, everything will be fine. Josh doesn’t have to know anything. Josh shouldn’t know anything. If Josh knew anything, Josh would leave, and Tyler was now coming to the conclusion that he really didn’t want Josh to leave. 

Josh finished gathering up their stuff and they picked up their coffee as they left. Josh glared at him when his short had become a tall cup of coffee but thanked him mercilessly as they left the building, an employee locking the door behind them. 

“I don’t have a car like you, but my place isn’t too far away.” Tyler explained when Josh gave him _that_ look. They walked shoulder to shoulder, the chilled air biting through thin jackets. 

-|- 

He was scared, more scared than he'd ever been in his life. While he was so, so grateful he'd found a ripped piece of clothing on an abandoned bench and that he managed to make it back unspotted, he'd barricaded himself in his apartment the moment he stepped inside, running to the bathroom to throw up, his only thoughts being where the blood covering his chest had come from. He turned the shower on as hot as possible and scrubbed away the blood and bile, shaking the whole time, which quickly ended up becoming an hour. Understandably, the water bill wasn’t his biggest concern right then. 

After another hour passed, he reluctantly turned off the spray and half-stumbled out, grabbing a towel with shaking hands. He rubbed a hand against his chest, then dug his fingernails into his muscle, then put his hands over his eyes and backed up against the wall, hopelessly trying to get his breathing under control. He still felt dirty. 

Google searches about werewolves proved useless. Random fantasy articles and trivia didn’t seem crazy enough for him yet, prompting him to move onto symptoms of psychosis or contaminated medicine. No matter what he experienced, what nightmares he had, this had to have some medical explanation. That’s been the case every time he’s felt something clawing at his throat and snarling in his psyche. Maybe this was one of the nightmares. 

Werewolves don’t exist, they’re like vampires and ghosts and _they don’t exist_. When would he have even become one- 

...The bite mark. 

No, he'd hallucinated that, he had to have. It vanished in a single day. Maybe he hallucinated last night too, or sleepwalked or something, but he wasn’t the freaking wolf-man. 

He'd brushed his teeth almost 12 times now, had flossed and picked his teeth until his gums bled, then washed out his mouth over and over. He couldn’t get rid of the bloody taste. 

That didn’t mean anything, he was just sleepwalking or having a psychotic break and bit his tongue and it... bled a lot, no biggie, right? Right? He thought of the sinewy strips he pulled from between his teeth, and almost threw up again. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, stared, stared... His face looked gaunt, his eyes sunken in. His ribs were just visible under his skin, a feature that wasn’t there yesterday. He was starving but he had no appetite. 

So, he was a nutcase then, he was really crazy. All his fears were right. When he misses his dose he's a danger to himself and others, but, that doesn’t mean he's a werewolf. He’s not some ungodly entity intent on destroying everything around him. He started pacing while his thoughts spiraled. He needed food. He paced into the kitchen area, right around the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. 

The window was shattered, frame cracked, with huge, raking claw marks dragged on the floor and along the wall. 

-|- 

Josh's eyes were wide when he saw the neighborhood they were in, and grew wider still when Tyler walked up to his apartment door. 

Josh followed him up the steps cautiously, as if the stones were going to break under him, looking from Tyler to the apartment and back to Tyler. 

“I worked myself to death in high school. My parents made me save every penny. It, it paid off.” Tyler didn’t mention that his parents sent him checks for three months before he told them to stop, or that they’d seemed relieved when he did. It wasn’t that expensive. Despite some very close calls, he's never missed rent. Thank God for plasma donations. 

The heater had kicked in, making the entryway feel like a hug when they entered, Tyler taking off his shoes and Josh copying him. Josh looked around the living area when Tyler turned the lights on, gaze wandering from the used sofa to the kitchen area around the corner. 

“You said you worked in, in high school, but I still don’t see how you could afford this. I mean! No offense meant but this is, like, really high quality for a college student.” 

“I had three jobs.” And wealthy parents who gave him an allowance, all the way up to when he said he didn’t want to play basketball for the rest of his life. 

"You have a _driveway_. Don't you _not_ have a car?"

Tyler didn't give that a response. Yes, the apartment was on the costly side for a college kid, but Tyler never was a conventional man, and it was worth it just for the neighborhood. Solid locked doors, smart security systems, near a large wooded park, but close enough to Starbucks to walk, and close enough to his classes to bike. Thankfully, Josh dropped it. 

Tyler set his stuff down onto the cracked coffee table, and discreetly pulled shut his bedroom door as Josh was doing the same. Tyler knew this was still dangerous, even if his secrets were well-hidden (both his calendar and his pills behind closed doors), but he knew Josh wasn’t going to offer Tyler to come over to his place, and they needed to finish this project before The Night. 

They’d soon fallen into an easy conversation as they worked, each doing the parts they’d agreed on in the library. Josh had gone from rigid to still to relaxed, sinking into the corner of the sofa with his knees pulled to his chest, laptop balanced on his thighs. 

“So, how much are they looking at to fix up your car?” Josh snapped back into uneasiness.

“Uhh, they s-said it was just a belt or something. Like, about, uhm, $60 I think they said.” Tyler didn’t miss his small stutter as he talked, eyes looking somewhere past his keyboard. “It should be done by tomorrow, though.” 

“That’s good. Well, not the ‘your car is in the shop and you have to pay college money to get it back so you can go to college’ thing, but hey. At least it wasn’t your whole engine needing replacing, right? Don’t you have classes tomorrow?” 

Josh nodded. “One of the core algebra classes. In the morning." Tyler threw up his hands. "The professor assigns way too much homework, I think she’s actually plotting to murder us.” 

“With what? Boredom?” 

“She’ll overwork us and at some point we’ll just flop over dead.” 

“Okay, now I’m glad the most we get out of LOPE is, like, bird evolution.” 

“So far. You don’t know what’s around the corner. Not that, not that I do but, you know the minute we let our guard down Mr. Midday’s gonna come at as with the fungus family tree.” 

“...So you’re saying he’s going to be a fun-guy?” 

Josh wheezed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant!” 

“So, wait, wait, I didn’t actually read the syllabus, so what is the next unit?” 

Josh thought for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, before glancing at his open laptop and swiftly opening a new tab. Tyler watched Josh type patiently. 

“I think we might be starting the mammal unit.” He scrolled down the page he'd navigated to. “Yup. Anatomy and physiology of mammals.” 

“I almost fell asleep just hearing you say that, so I don’t really know how I'm going to survive in class.” 

“To be fair, it is 11 o'clock right now.” Josh hadn’t looked up from his laptop, had navigated to a different tab. 

“I usually go to bed around 12, so…” 

Josh was looking up at him again. 

“Is it bad that we've only know each other for, what, five hours total but I can still tell you're lying?” 

“No, you know I'm lying ‘cause we're college students. We never sleep.” 

“Your voice gets really, I guess monotone? When you’re lying or being sarcastic.” 

“Josh, I think you're a really amazing person,” Tyler said monotonously. 

“Alright, now you’re just being cruel.” 

Tyler snickered, then stopped himself from saying ‘it's what I do,’ cringing. “Nah, man. You are actually an amazing person. I was just joshing you. I was joshing Josh.” 

“Gee, haven’t heard that one before.” 

“No one’s told you that you’re an amazing person? That’s sucky.” 

Josh’s palm made contact with his forehead, but Tyler could see that he was smiling. 

-|- 

God was cruel. 

First, by cursing him with near-indomitable anxiety, and depression, and disorder after disorder, fought back only with pills and pills and pills. 

Second, by allowing the landlord to forward more than half the repair bill to him, saying it was his fault for allowing an animal to get in. His emergency fund hadn’t even fully recovered from the robbery yet. 

Third, by allowing splitting headaches and achingly painful muscles and joints to plague him after the full moon, as if his body was still adjusting back to normal. 

And lastly, and most pressingly, by allowing him to become either a werewolf, or insane. He still desperately clutched the sand-like belief of the latter, helpless that he had to choose between one or the other, a rock or a hard place. The frying pan or the fire. 

He never thought he’d become the “pray it away” type- he usually wanted to face his problems the best he could on his own before turning to the beyond for answers. He still wasn’t about to get down on his knees, but he figured if werewolves, no, mental illness could exist in such a horrifying way, then surely an equally assuaging God must exist as well. In his mind, at least. He’d put his hand against the tattooed background cross, the foreground i's against his shoulder, and pleaded that things would turn out okay. 

He didn’t want to check the news. He never really had an opportunity to do so, since he forwent a TV or radio for the couch. But he knew that his mind would scream at him to check the news anyway, in any way he could, to see if there were any new missing persons cases, missing pets, strange sightings. Even if there were, there would be no guarantee it was him, but he would blame himself anyway. He should really stop doing that. He should really get a therapist. 

A part of him wished that if his actions _were_ on the news, they’d have video, and it would be just him, normal human him, running around like a maniac. He’d pulled out his phone. Any confirmation that he had the normal type of lunacy was better than the alternative. 

He checked the Columbus news. 

There were reports of a possible bear sighting in the area; the article gave tips on how to ward them off. Tyler didn’t know what werewolves looked like, if they existed, but he felt confident that they wouldn’t be easily mistaken for a bear. Would they? He assumed they’d be more dog like, maybe looking exactly like a wolf. That’s what one of the articles he’d read had said, at least. 

No violent, animal-related deaths. No people who went missing that Night. As he checked the dates, he realized he needed to refill his meds ...What if his prescription had caused him to hallucinate? No, his thoughts were crazy enough as is. He didn’t need conspiracy theories to top it off. 

After the window had been fixed, there was no evidence remaining that anything unusual had occurred. Maybe he could keep it that way. Pretend nothing had happened. When he starts pretending, he’s dangerously good at it. It’s too easy for him to fall into his own pit. 

-|- 

“Hey Josh, you go to the music hall to practice on the drums, right?” 

Josh continued trying to pack his laptop, which did not want to fit back into the bag. “Considering it’s called the music hall, I would have to say yes.” 

“I was just wondering! You could have a set at home, for all I know.” 

“Nope, no set at home. Wish I could, but, y’know, money.” 

“How’d you get into drums then?” 

“School. My parents, they never wanted- they never let me get a drum set. I learned the trumpet first but I actually suck at it.” It was almost one o’clock right now, and it was showing in the way Josh was yawning and close to drifting off on Tyler’s couch. 

“Can I come to practice with you?” That woke Josh right up. 

“You... you want to?” 

“I mean, if we work well together on this, we could probably work well together in music, too.” Tyler shrugged, “if you want me there.” 

“Wait, you don’t want to work on the bird project?” 

“I wanna hear you play.” 

Josh tch-ed. “I’ll make your ears bleed.” 

“I’ll compliment you the entire time because you can’t be that bad.” 

“I’ll prove you wrong.” 

“You can’t.” 

“I will.” 

Josh and Tyler glared at each other, until their frowns slowly turned into smiles, then into laughter. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” Josh giggled. “I’m usually in there around six. Six pm. I’ll see you then...?” 

“Oh, you will. I’m not gonna miss your awesome talent for the world.” 

Josh shook his head but smiled back, hooking his backpack over his shoulder and stepping out the apartment door into the cold. Tyler took his pills and went to bed, running on all fours, misty forests turning into cold alleyways. This time, though, all the signs were neon pink. 

The music hall was a peaceful enough place. Soundproof foam panels covered the walls, and the ceiling had a line of windows letting in plenty of natural light, at least, when Ohio’s weather decided to cooperate. And, as the name suggested, the music hall was a straight hallway with doors coming off the sides leading into various practice spaces and instrument storage. Then again, the word “hall” made most people did seem to think it was some sort of theater. 

The peaceful illusion was broken the second you opened the door into an occupied practice room, often filled with full band and orchestra clubs or classes tuning. 

Tyler realized the moment he walked in that Josh hadn’t told him where he’d be in the music hall. If Tyler had to guess, though, he figured that this would be like in the library, where he would find Josh in the quietest part of the hall. 

He was right. In a practice room at the furthest possible section of the building from the entrance, the door had a piece of paper duct-taped to it. 

PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB 

UNLESS YOURE TYLER 

THANK YOU 

Tyler grabbed the handle. 

Josh didn’t notice when Tyler entered, too busy crashing the cymbals to look up, earbuds in and completely absorbed in the music. 

Tyler looked on in awe. Josh, soft-spoken, reserved, Josh was slamming his mind and body into the drums, producing a speed and coordination Tyler had rarely seen beyond videos. Josh’s eyes were lidded, his vibrant pink hair stuck to his forehead in the front and the rest hidden by a snapback. Once again, Josh had become a completely different person overnight. 

Tyler was still watching Josh drum out a rhythm to a soundless song when the music ended, and Josh stopped, reaching down to exchange his drumsticks for a bottle of water. Taking deep breaths, Josh turned, and saw Tyler. And jumped almost three feet in the air from his seat. 

“Tyler! You startled the heck out of me, I almost spit out my water.” 

“_Josh_,” Tyler was still looking up at him, eyes wide. 

“What is it?” Josh looked behind himself, then back at Tyler. “Do- do I have something on my face?” Tyler kept staring at him, clicking his jaw shut when he realized his mouth was parted. 

“Dude, you can, _drum_.” Josh stared back at him, bewildered. “Uhm, yeah, I told you that I can play the drums.” Tyler smiled like a madman. 

“Josh, my man... That was _sick!_ I know you told me you could play, and to be honest I was expecting you to be absolutely terrible, but Josh. That is some next level playing. Holy crap, Josh.” 

“You know you don’t have to flatter me,” Josh said, as if he hadn’t just put all his heart and soul into matching his drumbeats to a song in his ears. Tyler didn’t know what song it was, but every hit had sounded perfect, Josh’s hands flying across the set as he bounced in the throne. 

“You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“But I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what you don’t have to do.” 

“You don’t have to be so humble. That’s honestly some of the best drumming I’ve heard.” Josh looked away, the tips of his ears going red endearingly. 

“Whatever.” Tyler looked around the room as Josh started a simple beat, killing time. Tyler headed further into the room, pulling the keyboard out of the corner and into the center of the room, right in front of where Josh was set up. Josh looked at the keyboard, then back at him quizzically, pulling out his earbuds and letting them rest over his shoulders. 

Staring dead in Josh’s face, Tyler began to play out the beginning notes of Seven Nation Army. Josh was immediately in drumming mode, like a switch had been flipped, a snake charmer’s flute. Josh came in exactly when he was supposed to, slamming the drum with just enough force to be heard, but not enough to overwhelm the piano. When the lyrics came in and Tyler started singing, it was Josh’s turn to stare, jaw dropped. 

Josh hit every beat perfectly. Tyler knew he’d been flat singing some of the lines, but as the song ended and Josh fixed him with his surprised look, he didn’t think Josh had heard them. 

“You can sing?” Josh parroted Tyler’s original question, smiling as he did. 

In his best Josh impression, Tyler replied, “No I can’t. I just sound like the gates of Heaven.” 

Josh laughed at that, perfect teeth showing. It was infectious. 

No more comments made about each other’s musical abilities, Josh and Tyler went back and forth, Josh starting the beginning drum beats of a song and Tyler starting to play along, doing the best he could with songs he hadn’t played before, until the song ended and Tyler began the first notes of a different one. Whenever one started a song the other didn’t know, the phone was pulled out and the song played. They both had the same taste in music. 

At one point, Tyler just started hitting keys in a way that sounded good. Josh listened along, for a bit, then shook his head. 

“Nope. Don’t know that one. Who’s it by?” 

Tyler smiled. “Me. Just now.” He shifted from random, repeated sounds into a combination of notes that had been with him since middle school, a chord that he could never find the right fit for. Sounds that reminded him of himself. “Well, this one I did a long time ago.” 

He let himself hum along to the tune of the lyrics. He didn’t want to say them out loud, not even to Josh. 

Josh looked down at the keyboard, watching the notes Tyler played, listening to the key and rhythm and began to drum along. A slow, perfectly fitting beat. 

Tyler whipped his head up at Josh. Josh, so focused on the music that Tyler was playing, eyes closed as he beautifully, effortlessly recreated the feeling in Tyler’s heart when he’d written the melody. Josh instinctively changed to a more intense sound when the chorus came, a glass slipper, perfect fit. 

Tyler had played this melody only once before in front of others, unknowingly pouring his fragile soul into the words, right to his parents standing outside his room. They’d told their mortified son at dinner that they’d heard his singing, and exchanged glances like Josh’s _look_ and asked him if he’d written anything happier. 

And here Josh was. Hearing the sorrow in every note and holding it like a puzzle piece against his own matching one. The song didn’t sound so hopeless, though, with drums. Tyler decided that that was better. It was so much better. 

It wasn’t until he realized Josh was looking at him with a worried expression, still hitting every beat, that Tyler realized there were tears leaking down his cheek. Tyler smiled, though, and everything was okay. 

He started to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Gonna be a few more chapters. By few I mean a lot. Maybe. It's called unreliable narrators, Karen.


	3. Sunday-Tuesday

Tyler never told his parents about the werewolf thing, but he can at least tell his mom about Josh. 

One, or both, of Tyler’s parents always call him on Sundays. They insist they check up on him. To ask how college is going, to ask if he’s been taking his medicine, to ask if he’s made new friends... Tyler’s parents want to know everything. 

This Sunday, he’s jolted out of his nightmare to the phone ringing. He debates ignoring it, until he sees his mom’s contact through the sleep blurriness. He never ignores his mom, he just... can’t. 

She starts with the usual questions: college and medicine, then gets to friends, and finally Tyler can answer one of them completely truthfully. 

“I met this new guy, his name’s Josh. He asked me to work with him for a Life on Planet Earth assignment. He’s a great drummer, like, probably the best drummer I’ve seen on campus.” 

“That’s great, Ty! Is he majoring in the same thing?” His mom’s voice is a mixture of concern and happiness rolled together. 

“Yeah. I was telling him how we should work on music assignments with each other, too. We work pretty well together, I think.” 

“Good. You need more friends. Zack says you haven’t called him in a while.” 

“Oh, right! Can you apologize to him for me? I’ve just been pretty busy.” 

“You can apologize to him yourself. Call him when you get the chance, m’kay?” 

“Yeah, mom.” Being that informal with his mother when he lived under her roof would have earned him a scolding, but now all she can do is sigh through the speaker. 

“I swear, being away from home has changed you.” 

“That does tend to happen.” 

Tyler’s mom sighs louder, “When will we see you at church again?” 

Tyler used to go to their church every Sunday to see his parents. He would bike, or if seriously pressed, would call a cab. Then college got more intense and he couldn’t find the time or money to go as often. His relatives who still went practically cheered whenever he could make it. Then he was a werewolf, and he didn’t want to even think about entering a church anymore. He tried, once, but the displacement was overwhelming. The pictures of saints judged him from the walls. He could worship from home, he decided. That would be best. 

“With the LOPE assignment, probably not soon. I’m really sorry, I’m just, really bogged down. Between music practice and homework... I want to get it all done as soon as possible so it won’t bug me later. No procrastination, right?” 

His mother wasn’t extremely happy, but the answer still seemed to assuage her enough. 

“If that’s what you need to do for your classes.” Tyler’s mom then got into the family details, what’s been happening while Tyler’s been gone. She then started talking about how if Tyler had just gotten the basketball scholarship, he could come to church at any time. Tyler tuned her out. 

This was always the final part of the Sunday talks. The “guilt for not doing basketball” part. He didn’t know which he preferred, the snide comment about it or the 30-minute rant, but his mom and dad did them interchangeably whenever they were about ready to hang up. Finally, finally, they said their goodbyes and hung up. 

Tyler let himself fall back into the sheets, trying to ignore the sunlight that filtered through thin drapes into the room. After fifteen restless minutes, he relented. Tyler stretched his limbs to get ready for the morning, then yanked his hands back to his line of sight when the stretch brought back some vague recollection of something. Studying his hands, nothing looked off or wrong. Tyler shrugged, pulling himself out of bed, and the memory was repressed once more. 

-|- 

Of course he wasn’t about to tell anyone anything about whatever the hell was wrong with him. His dad would want him to back to the doctor, his mom would want him to come back home for a while. Jenna would call him every night like she used to, Jay would probably want to come over, and it would be a big mess all because Tyler didn’t take his pills like he's supposed to. 

For the longest time he'd been taking his medication correctly, then he was bitten and it became more sporadic as his doubts grew about what they were doing to him. After multiple nights of night terrors, thankfully just ones about the taste of blood in his mouth, he found a perfect combination of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills that chased away the thoughts of werewolves and insanity. 

Yes, the world around him seemed a bit fuzzy and sometimes assignments didn’t make sense, but it was college. He’s living off of Red Bull and hope and he shouldn’t be surprised when he loses hours sitting on his sofa, staring at the way the wall in front of him is staring back at him. Everything’s numb, but that’s just the price to pay for peace. 

About four weeks of drifting later, the nightmares get strange again. He runs on all fours in alleys, painful teeth and numb fingertips, then wakes up and feels nothing. He starts taking two sleeping pills instead of one. The later into the week it gets, the worse the dreams get, just like last time. Just like last time what? When he had that nervous breakdown? 

He wakes up four nights before the full moon and he still feels phantom pain in his jaw. 

The night before the full moon a creature is sitting in the corner of his room, its head facing the wall. It violently shakes with each fast breath, lungs inhaling so hard its ribcage pulls its skin taut over the bones. He can’t move. When he wakes up, he knows it was a nightmare- sleep paralysis, that’s what Google said. But he still sits in the center of his bed for hours, arms wrapped around himself, his breathing sounding too much like the thing’s. He pops his altered medication and enjoys not feeling scared. 

The next day, he can’t concentrate. The words in his homework packet blur together. He sits through his classes like a zombie, only barely comprehending what the professors were saying. By the afternoon, he’s sweating again, too hot, he just can’t concentrate. He cracks the front door to let some cold air in. 

He swallows a few more pills, just one more of each to keep his brain from falling back into craziness. He’s shivering violently, sweat drips down his forehead. Another anxiety pill won’t hurt. The moon is shining, full and judging, outside his window. 

He refills the cup of water with shaking hands, drops of water spilling out as he moves it to his mouth. The water’s lukewarm and awful and he hates it. He downs another anti-depressant and maybe all the feelings would go away. 

Then it’s all pain. Moonlight. Pain. Displacement. 

The last thing he remembers is falling to the floor. 

When he wakes up, a migraine worse than any he’s felt before pounds in his head, but he’s also barely a mile away from his apartment, behind a dumpster. His mouth tastes like garbage and he feels like garbage, and oh, he’s been eating the garbage. He throws up in the back of the alley and meanders back home with a disgusting, ripped towel wrapped around his lower half. 

When he opens the closed front door, slammed shut by the wind, he realizes he’s still starving hungry. Brushing his teeth is simple. Making some Spaghetti-O's is easy enough. While he waits for them to finish, he checks his phone. Once again there’s nothing in the news about him. 

He hates that he doesn’t feel anything about it happening twice. 

Then he remembers taking far more of his medicine than he should have, and realizes that he didn’t travel nearly as far this Night as he did the last. Maybe they did work, in some way. His pill supplies were nearly drained. It wasn’t time for a refill yet. 

Two full moons now he’s ended up somewhere he wasn’t when he lost consciousness. The claw marks, the bite that vanished, the blood, the broken window... He giggles when he remembers that all of this is pure, absolute, insanity. His giggles escalate to hysterics, letting himself fall to the floor, he can’t stop laughing. Tears stream down his face and the laughter gives way to wet sobs. 

Maybe he is a werewolf. 

-|- 

Josh doesn’t show up to class. Tyler knows because he can’t see the bubblegum-pink hair anywhere. Knowing Josh (for about a week), Tyler could guess that Josh’d be seriously stressed out about not having the notes. So, for the first time since he discovered the recording feature, Tyler took detailed notes about everything the professor said right then in class. Yes, Mr. Midday was boring as heck. The topic wasn’t the most interesting. But the thought of Josh being worried was worse than both of those combined. 

Class finished and Tyler reviewed the document on his laptop before packing up, assuring that the notes were as complete as a running-on-Red-Bull student could get them to be. He pulled out his phone and pressed Josh’s contact. 

_Hey, what’s your e-mail? I have the lope notes _

Tyler put his phone away and began the trip back home. 

Settled on the couch a few hours later, Tyler checked his phone. No notification sound had gone off and Tyler thought he might have missed it. There was nothing from Josh, but there was a new text from the muted group chat, a video about... bones? Deciding that he’d watch it later, Tyler set his phone aside and opened his laptop, Googling answers to the homework. 

Another two hours later, Tyler looked at his phone again. There was still nothing from Josh. 

_You good, bro? _

Another hour. Then two. Then five and it was time for Tyler to really seriously be in bed, but Josh still hadn’t replied. There was a nervous feeling in his gut that wanted him to stay awake until Josh responded. There was also a tired feeling in his head saying this was a problem for tomorrow. 

Maybe Josh had just lost his phone. 

Maybe Josh was busy. 

Tyler’s eyes were starting to droop, so after two more hours of radio silence, he took his pills (the amount he should) and went to bed. He couldn’t sleep. 

What if Josh was hurt and couldn’t get to his phone? 

What if he was in trouble? 

Tyler rolled over to punch his pillow into a fluffier shape, waiting for the sleeping pills to drag him under. He flopped face-first into the blanket, then tossed and turned for another hour. In a burst of fear, he examined his calendar, squinting to see it using only the dim light from the street lamp outside. The Night was a full week from now. 

It had to be Josh not responding causing this, then. Well, what was Tyler supposed to do? It was almost three in the morning. He didn’t know where Josh lived. Frustrated, Tyler rolled over again and pulled the sheets to cover his nose. 

He’s gonna need stronger sleeping pills. 

Just when sunlight is joining the street light, he hears a chime. Tyler flails out from under his bunched-up blankets and flies to snatch up his phone. The artificial light is harsh on his tired eyes, but he can still make out Josh’s text. 

_cn I comr over pls _

_Yeah of course, are u ok??? _

_Tell u when get ther _

Well that didn’t ease Tyler’s worries. He swings out of bed to get dressed, racing into the bathroom to get ready for the morning, pausing when he looks at the mirror. His reflection looks awful, the bags under his eyes match Josh’s. Happy thoughts. 

He smiles to the mirror, a full teeth-out grin, then immediately lets his face fall. Tyler wasn't vain by any means, but he kept in shape and generally thought himself an okay looking guy. If there was one thing about his appearance, though, that he couldn’t stand, it was his smile. His teeth were just too crooked to look natural or friendly, and his happiness always seemed to get distorted somewhere in the message. 

Shaking his head to clear it, he puts on the least smelly clothing and picks up his phone again. All he can do now is wait. 

-|- 

He’s a werewolf, and he’s alone. He’s a werewolf and he’s all meaningless again, purposeless, displaced. What is he anymore? What would his parents say? What is God thinking, watching him now, allowing him to be thrown into this? 

Everything is blurry and shaky, a poor-quality video, but he can’t feel anything. All he can taste blood from his bitten tongue, but what if he killed something to make it all iron and crimson and just forgot again? No, it was nowhere near the full moon. The full moon. He’s a werewolf. 

Every full moon he sprouts hair and fangs and eats people? No, no one’s gone missing. Yet. He’s dangerous. He could hurt someone, he could kill someone, he could make others like him, couldn’t he? Oh, God, what was he going to do? 

He puts his head against the wall and just breathes. In for four seconds, hold, out for four seconds. The exhaustion flooded his sore bones and no matter how much he exhaled, it wouldn’t be forced out. Maybe he just doesn’t hurt people during those nights. His parents and friends don’t have to know, neither does his doctor. Everyone is far away and safe from him. 

He should sleep. Sleep would make it better. He’s a werewolf, and he should sleep. Gently padding back to his bed, he sinks into sheets the only way a cheap broken-in mattress can allow him to. He pulls his shirt off lazily and sets his head back onto the pillow, staring up at the egg-white ceiling. He’ll sleep for a bit, and maybe everything will be okay. He closes his eyes, and much to his pleasure, feels tiredness pulling him down. He sleeps. 

When the morning comes, he buys a calendar. 

-|- 

Josh enters Tyler’s apartment like he was entering a church, putting his shoes by the door reverently. Then he 180s his way into shrugging off his bag and letting it crash to the ground, before pulling free his laptop. He glanced at Tyler expectantly. 

“So, what part of the project do you think we should work on today?” Tyler’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why didn’t you text me back last night?” Josh goes from defiant and organized to shivering in less than a blink, whipping himself back to his laptop and hastily typing nonsense. 

“You first.” 

“Josh.” 

“T-Tyler.” Every part of Tyler was telling him to back off. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what Josh might be going through, he knows the gist of it, and he knows how he didn’t want anyone else to know when he went through similar struggles. How he still doesn’t want anyone to know. Josh still wasn’t meeting his gaze, eyes glued to a blank PowerPoint slide, all his body language screaming how uncomfortable he was. Tyler should just drop it, but that’s not what friends do. 

“Josh, something’s wrong and you’re freaking me out, man. Anything you want to tell me, you can, y’know?” It was beyond hypocritical, but Josh didn’t need to know that. 

Josh stayed silent, lips pressed together, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Josh, come one, please-” 

“I missed my rent payment four times in a row. ‘Landlord kicked me out.” Tyler was stunned silent. 

“Josh, that’s- Josh- ...There’s a grace period, though, right?” Josh continued to look into the screen. His eyes were watering from staring unblinkingly at the light. “Oh, Josh.” 

Without thinking of consequences, or repercussions, or any of the werewolf thoughts that have consumed his life for the past few years, Tyler leaned across the couch and wrapped his arms around the other man. Just when he realized what he’d done and was about to pull away, he felt arms desperately wrap around him, preventing him from leaving. 

“Please- please don’t go, right now.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere.” 

The project was forgotten momentarily as Josh nudged away the laptop from between them, then buried his head into Tyler’s shoulder. Tyler never really liked hugs that much, but this one was okay; He hadn’t been touched or hugged in years. 

It would be okay. He communicated that to Josh, and he felt Josh nod, pink hair bobbing out the corner of his eye. 

“You living in your van now?” Another nod. 

“Heat doesn’t work, though.” The body in his arms shuddered. 

“It’ll be okay,” Tyler whispered. “It’ll be okay.” 

He didn’t know if Josh believed it, and he didn’t know if he himself even believed it, but they had to. Josh finally pulled back from Tyler, furiously rubbing at his eyes like he had an itch. 

“We should... get back to the project.” 

They reluctantly did, nearly finishing the PowerPoint, and began to convert their sources to the correct citing format. In the tediousness of it, Tyler nearly didn’t register what Josh had said about not having heat in his van. In November. 

Tyler had an idea, and this was a very bad idea. An extremely bad idea. So bad, it should be locked up and never mentioned again. 

“Hey, Josh, do you want to spend the night?” Josh almost choked, whipping his head to face Tyler with comically wide eyes. “Not like that! I mean, it’s probably gonna go below freezing tonight, and I have a couch available, so why not?” Tyler can think of many reasons why not, but right now all he can think of is Josh potentially shivering in the back section of a beat-up van, cold and alone. “Please?” 

Josh looked like he was about to protest, before his stomach growled and he flushed. Tyler seemed to always win at the being-nice-when-he-had-no-reason-to contest. 

“Okay, and order some take-out.” 

Josh looked back at him with terrifying trust and happiness, gratitude spilling from his smiling lips. Tyler could taste phantom blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More's on the way.
> 
> Edit: Is anyone having formatting issues with this chapter on mobile? Feel free to send me a message if so!


	4. Wednesday

Josh sleeps with all the lights on and it couldn’t be more annoying or endearing.

Tyler woke from a nightmare around four AM, holding his limbs tightly to his torso to make the aches go away when he saw the light shining through the crack under his bedroom door.

After a few moments of terrified confusion, he remembered that he wasn’t alone in the apartment and calmed himself down . Then he grew terrified again when he remembered that he was letting Josh stay with him.

In his apartment.

Less than a week away from The Night.

Tyler exhaled to calm the growing panic, breathing deeply though his pillow. It would be fine.

He tussled away the blankets and held himself to keep away the chill, turning open his bedroom door as quietly as he could. Josh was almost silently snoring on the couch, arms splayed out along the pillows, ratty blankets covering his face.

Tyler could only stare fondly at the pink hair sticking out from under it. Toeing his way across the cold floor, he flicked off the light switch before heading back to bed.

Tyler didn’t go back to sleep. His back hurt from the mattress, his mind wouldn’t shut up, and Tyler could hear Josh tossing and turning through the thin walls.

Just when he was about to start killing time on his phone, he heard Josh snort from his sleep, then just breathing, the rustling of poor fabric as Josh sat up. Josh's shuffling feet echoed , then a click, and the light streaming under his door was back.

The n a muffled  fwump as Josh landed back on the couch.  Tyler tightly pulled his pillow  over his head.

Exhaustion  clawed at him, blinking slowly as he stared at his room, illuminated by dim light. He debated going out to turn the light off again, but his limbs were heavy and warm under the covers , leaden . Tyler blinked once, twice, and  reality warped slightly .

Josh wasn’t snoring again yet. How long had it been since he turned the light back on? He blinked again and the room was fuzzy. Shadows reached away from the doorway and he studied their blurry edges, the basketball trophy his mother forced him to take became a distorted figure on  the  wall. He blinked again.

There’s something in the room with him . Tyler can’t move.

He can hear  something breathing heavily just at the foot of his bed, hidden behind the  shape of the mattre ss .  He can’t crane his neck to see it and he doesn’t think he would if he could. Its breaths are ragged, a wet sound in its throat, a smothered groan with every exhale. The light still seeps in under the door , casting a massive shadow across the wall, shuddering and shaking, unable to support its own weight. It groans loud on an exhale and wheezes, its shadow moving.

Tyler can’t look away. He can’t blink. A bubbling moan echoes in  the room. He can’t breathe. He doesn’t want to look at whatever’s about to climb onto the bed.

He can feel the blanket over him being pulled down by reaching claws and for whatever reason  he feels completely calm . He doesn’t know what it is, what it looks like, it can kill him and it will kill him, but he can’t move and he can’t care . The cold air touches his bare chest as the blanket is pulled down further and further , golden light catching wiry hair \- The door  slams open and  white overtakes his vision.

Tyler blinks and his alarm is going off. T he  morning  sun is shining through his window,  and  Josh’s voice ech oes as he softly sings to himself beyond the door.

-|-

It seemed like being sick weakened the werewolf. Or, at least, being poisoned by too many pills did the trick . Maybe it had even been the hysteria, or the  day , or how he was feeling - it could have been anything. He didn’t know for sure what had caused it, but something had happened to prevent him from ending up miles away from home on that second Night.

He was just beginning to accept that the first Night- when he woke up covered in blood- had actually been werewolf related. He was just beginning to accept any of this.

But if it was true, if he is indeed a werewolf, he needed to find a way to control it. Control it or fix it. That second Night had been an unintentional start to fixing  the problem.

He made up a decent hypothesis- all of those years of science classes were finally going to good use! If he weakens himself as a human before... transforming... then his other self will also be weakened. He’ll have no energy to kill anything or anyone.

He didn’t know how to run this experiment, and he couldn’t exactly have it peer reviewed, but the purpose was clear enough to make it worthwhile.  On days with class es he took notes on science and math. He went home and took notes on poisons.

He didn’t want to die, mind you. He liked to believe he escaped that part of his life, remembered to scold himself whenever his thoughts tried to backtrack to it.

All he wanted was that sense of control he lost to the teeth marks.

He rechecked the label on his pills. He couldn’t squander them, not even for this; he put down the bottle and pulled forward his laptop.

So he was crazy enough for those werewolf sites.

-|-

After taking his pills and marking off the day in his calendar, Tyler pulled on a t-shirt and set out to figure out what Josh was  doing.  He creaked open his door as loudly as he could and stepped into the living room, almost retracing his steps from the early morning when he’d gone to turn the light off. Josh had stopped humming and was looking up at him from his laptop.

“Good morning , man ! What's up?”

“Had some bad dreams, I'm used to them though,”  Tyler ran his hand through his hair as he headed towards the kitchen.

“Dude,  uh,  your sink is \- was gross.”

“Thanks.” Tyler headed behind the kitchen counter and pulled an almost-stale bag of bread from the cupboard.

“I cleaned it for you,” Josh proclaimed.  “I hope it's alright, it's just that I don’t really have money to give you …”  Tyler glanced towards Josh to see him shut his laptop. He was rambling again, head in his hands, about how grateful he was  for Tyler letting him stay.

“It's really okay, you know.” It's not okay.

Josh exhaled, taking his hands away from his face.  He was silent for a few minutes, then finally stood to join Tyler in the kitchen, watching him cram slices into the iffy toaster.

“Why’d you put the bread in round part down?” Tyler mock glares at him.

“...You come into my house. You insult my sink, now you complain about my baking skills? You’re an awful guest, bringing a man down like that.”

“Putting bread in a toaster isn’t baking. ”

“Just awful,” Tyler shakes his head pitifully. Josh  jokingly glares back at him.

“You’re an awful host! I heard you pacing around at like, three o’clock.”

“You sleep with the lights on , man . I had to turn them off.”

“ Ohh , ”  Josh watched in a mixture of awe and horror as Tyler bit into a plain piece of bread, straight from the bag.  He quickly recovered when Tyler  raised an eyebrow at him. “ Why’d it take you al most half an hour,  though?”

“Were you dreaming? It took me , like, 30 seconds. I went back to bed.”

“Then why could I hear you pacing in your room?”

Chills involuntarily crawled up Tyler’s spine. Groaning breaths echoed in his ears.

“...Ghosts?” The explanation was a joke , but he legitimately didn’t know what else it could be.  He had sleep paralysis. He couldn't have moved . Josh shrugged it off quickly, though.

“It’s alright. I snore a lot so I don’t mind if you pace when you can’t sleep, or whatever.” Josh stared at the unused stove. “Do you have eggs? I can sort of make scrambled eggs.”

“They’re probably no good, but in the fridge?” The toaster went off. Tyler jolted.

The eggs were, unsurprisingly, bad. Tyler can just vaguely remember his mother bringing in groceries  during the most recent of her sparse visits, it had to have been months ago.

The toast was good, though.

Tyler's head hurt as they ate in comfortable silence , a combination of  poor sleep and the approaching Night,  probably . Tyler could feel it under his skin like growing panic.  If Josh noticed that something was wrong, he didn’t mention it.

Josh checked the time on his phone.

“ I can drive you to class , if you want . I know it's like, barely 15 minutes away, but, let me have this? ”

“It's cool, Josh. It's frozen. It's  freezerburnt , at this point.”

They finish their breakfast of upside-down toast(as Josh called it), and then it's time to go to class.

As they're getting into the van, a wave of black suddenly overcomes Tyler, and he stumbles face first  into the shotgun seat door . It's gone as soon as it came , but when he feels the pained spot on his  forehead he knows it’ll stick around. H e rubs at his sleepy eyes as he opens the door .

Josh looks at him, concerned from the driver's seat, but when Tyler  climbs in and  straps in with indifference, Josh can only shrug . He eyes Tyler once more before he puts the van in reverse.

- |-

The wolfsbane is painful and the  wolsbane is awful and the wolfsbane is what he needs. The purplish-greenish liquid in teeny tiny vials, sold in the witchery section of a mocking apothecary store online. Most of the merch an dise was probably intended for  actual witches,  or at least, people  who perform  actual  rituals. Tyler was trying to stop a ritual.

The first time he had downed a full vial of it, it was in his living room on  t he  sixth  Night and the pills  had stopped  working . The pills had stopped working. This time, h e  was desperate and terrified and uncaring if the  scentless liquid, undiluted and  outwardly innocuous , killed him.

He remembers it searing down his throat just before he passed out.

When he woke up, his stomach felt like it was on fire, and he weakly crawled to the small trash bin, just making it to turn his insides out. His head ached, the room spun wildly, he felt like he hadn’t eaten in days.

But he was still in his living room. He was still in his living room! No broken windows or doors! No waking up naked in ditches next to highways!

He still couldn’t recall  T he  N ight, he had no idea if he'd even transformed. All he cared about was that the taste of bile was much easier on his psyche than the taste of blood.

It takes an entire two days more to recover from the wolfsbane, random pain in his stomach and temple lingering on, making concentrating impossible until the poison is completely purged. It’s worth it, though.

He orders more online, this time in bulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter y'all, will update more when I can

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos fuel me, criticism welcome!


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